


tricks to make the angels weep

by Monna99



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: AU - partial, Angst, M/M, Not a Deathfic, Supernatural Elements, and hints of others but these two pairings are the top dogs, but the focus is definitely Speirton, it won't seem like it in the first chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:22:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23907628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monna99/pseuds/Monna99
Summary: “Here.” Nixon shoved the canteen at Dick who still pored over the geographical map. He’d been at it since early afternoon though there wasn’t much to it — just the town with surrounding hills and valleys with a few outlying buildings marked. Dick had to have memorized it by now.
Relationships: Carwood Lipton/Ronald Speirs, Lewis Nixon/Richard Winters
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	tricks to make the angels weep

Babe curled the blanket tightly over his fingers, pulling it closer in an attempt to shield himself from the biting wind with the meager armor of worn-thin wool. Guarnere sat pressed next to him, offering what little body warmth he could with his rifle at the ready, aimed toward the quiet across no man’s land — that deadly stretch of terrain between them and the waiting Germans. It was so quiet that he nearly squeezed the trigger when loud, disjointed singing rang out across the way. 

Liebgott grumbled in the next foxhole over. “Bastards won’t be singing so loudly when I put a couple holes in ‘em,” he muttered, shivering. They were all shivering, had not stopped shivering since they’d stepped foot in Bastogne. 

On their right, Gordon sipped from his cold coffee, lips nearly freezing to the tin cup as he and More stared out into the night. “Don’t know how you can stand that shit cold,” More grumbled, teeth chattering. He coughed, rubbing his hands together and stomping his feet to keep his blood flowing. If it helped at all, he was too frozen to tell.

Gordon grinned, “What would you know about elevated taste, Alton? Iced coffee is all the rage now.”

More snorted a laugh and closed his eyes, shifting, trying to find the sweet spot that would let him drop off into sleep.

“Joe, sing that song again. The one from earlier.”

Toye thought about it, debating whether he was in the mood for another round of _I’ll Be Seeing You_. He must have been silent too long because Luz fussed and poked at his side, demanding that he sing. “Knock it off,” he groused, but he leaned back anyway and began, _“I can see, no matter how near you’ll be, you’ll never belong to me, but I can dream, can’t I? Can’t I pretend that I’m locked in the bend of your embrace—”_

“Ah, jeez, Joe,” Luz interrupted, “that’s depressing as hell. Sing something more cheerful.”

“Hey, when did I say I was taking requests, huh?” he grumbled. He ignored as Luz curled closer into his side, seeking warmth, and started anew: _“I’ll never laugh again. What good would it do—”_

“Ah, to hell with you, Joe,” Luz cried laughing, shoving the other man away. 

Joe grinned and threw an arm around George, keeping him close. “Simmer down, Luz, you’re letting all the cold air into our happy home.”

A few more foxholes down, Martin was fast asleep, snoring lightly. The man could drop off into a deep slumber, snug as a bug in a rug no matter that it was colder than a witch’s tit in a brass bra in January. Bull glanced at him, envious as he shivered fit to come loose under his blanket. Easy to see why Johnny impressed the recruits, nerves of steel that one. The replacements tended to be too jumpy and that made them about as useless as a screen door on a submarine. He reached in his jacket and uncapped his water canteen, resolving to go check on them as soon as there was light on the horizon. They were mostly good boys, but they needed a solid dose of reality, too many of ‘em were still thinking they’d traipse through the war unscathed or with only a small, visible scar for show — just enough to make them look tough — then go home as certified heroes to a marching band and a parade. 

Johnny grumbled and stretched in his sleep, and by the light of the moon, Bull could make out the tail-end of a scar high on his neck. He reached up and rubbed at his own shoulder where he’d caught a piece of tank. They’d all caught something, but there’d been no marching bands or parades, just blood and corpses. No, Bull couldn't see the appeal of scars. 

“Here.” Nixon shoved the canteen at Dick who still pored over the geographical map. He’d been at it since early afternoon though there wasn’t much to it — just the town with surrounding hills and valleys with a few outlying buildings marked. Dick had to have memorized it by now. 

“Hmm?” That gaze never rose to meet his, green eyes fixed until Nixon sighed and plunked the serving of stale beans directly on top of the paper. “Nix!”

“Eat,” he ordered. “I know you live off your high ideals, but even you need earthly sustenance.” He glanced down into the miserly serving in the cup. It wasn’t a meal — the disgusting, still-partly-congealed mess barely qualified as human food — but it was better than nothing. Slowly starving really helped put things into perspective.

Dick rubbed at his dry eyes and ran a hand over his unwashed hair, grimacing. “Sustenance is a strong word.”

“These require a strong constitution. Eat up.”

They ate their meal in silence, Dick sitting on an overturned bucket and Nix on a blasted stump of a tree, both lost in their own thoughts. Colonel Sink had dropped in earlier in the afternoon and advised that the 101st would be charged with taking Noville the next day at 1300. Nix knew full well that Dick believed the idea to be terminally stupid but Sink and Strayer were fixed in their resolve. He set the tin aside, hunger unsatisfied and watched, a greater hunger gnawing at him, as Dick worried at his lower lip. “What do you want to do?” he asked quietly, acutely conscious of how far sound traveled in the silence. 

Dick’s eyes flicked to his and he breathed out, shoulders squaring. “I need eyes on that town.” He glanced again at the map, pensive. “Sending the men in blind, and in broad daylight no less, is asking for a bloodbath. They’ll be sitting ducks.”

“Sink didn’t approve a reconnaissance mission.” It was an idle observation — he agreed with Dick, they needed more details on what they were up against. He didn’t have to ask what the redhead was planning next, it was clear in the way Dick gripped his rifle, gaze going fierce and unyielding. Nix had seen that look too many times not to know what it meant. 

“I’m—”

“I’ll go,” he cut in before Dick had a chance to say more. “Captain Winters has no business recklessly sticking his neck out. You’re too valuable and there are too many men who count on you. You’re indispensable.” All perfectly true, but Nix’s reasons for wanting Winters safe were much more self-serving. 

Of course, Dick was too stubborn by half. He shot Nix a droll look, “It’s the army, Nix, no one is indispensable.” His lips twitched into the small barely-there grin Nix loved so much and he shook his head. “So, no, I’m not asking you to go.”

“You’re not asking,” Nixon agreed, “but I’m going anyway.” The world would thank him for it. The bell would not toll for one maudlin alcoholic, but Dick … he was something special. Someone for whom it was worth weeping. 

“That’s not acceptable,” the redhead returned shortly, frowning. He certainly came by his doggedness honestly. 

Nix stood, walking the handful of steps separating them, and kneeled down close, close enough that Dick’s knees brushed his belly. It took the other man aback and he closed his lips on further words. “Dick,” he murmured, letting himself look, truly look, as he hadn’t done in a long time, always afraid that his friend would see too much because Dick was frighteningly observant. “Trust me to do this. It’s not my first reconnaissance and it won’t be my last.” Their gazes held, locked, the seconds stretching between them. Nix grinned after a long moment, breaking the solemn impasse. “Is this a staring contest?” he asked, lightly. “‘Cause I gotta tell you, I bet Luz once—”

His heart leaped in his chest when Dick leaned forward, hands raised to bracket Nixon’s face, fingertips warm against wind-bitten skin. “Lewis, my life is not more valuable than yours,” he said tightly, expression pained, angry.

Nix blinked at him and his grin lost its edge, gentled to the smile he only ever had for Dick. “That’s not what I’m saying, Dick,” he lied, “but you’re the commander; these men need you here. I’m the intelligence officer, so let me gather the intelligence, okay?” He could see Dick didn’t like it — that made two of them — but Nixon was right and they both knew it. “Zero-two-hundred,” he pronounced, leaving no more room for argument. “I’ll make a run to Noville and have a look around then hightail it back here. You won’t even miss me. I’ll be back before breakfast and we can order in -- omelets, hotcakes, strawberries with cream, the works.”

Dick’s lips tightened, unamused, but he only said, “I expect you back no later than zero-five-hundred, got it?” 

“Got it.” He forced himself to pull away and stood, picking up the map. “I’m gonna borrow this.”

*****

As it turned out, the cover of night covered a worryingly minimal amount under a full moon, particularly when a blanket of snow carpeted every inch of ground. With little concealment, Nix felt like a damned target practice dummy waiting for the bullets to cut through his uniform. He stayed low and kept moving forward, ignoring the punch of cold air hitting his lungs. Dick had insisted he take his gloves, something for which Nix was grateful now that the frozen metal of his rifle was biting at his fingers even through the protective layer.

The heavy crunch of hobnob-bottom boots sent him scrambling down into a narrow dike. Soon he detected lowered voices speaking German, first two, then three and three more. A whole squad was coming down the roadway. He quieted his breathing and raised himself up enough to see over the edge of the channel. The men were only a few feet away now, their voices clear. 

His German was less than stellar but he understood enough to make out the words “company”, “Noville”, and “attack”. The men sounded cheerful, tones light and they were walking down the middle of the roadway fearlessly. It sounded like the enemy was ready to mobilize and believed they’d all but won the battle already. He had to get to that town and back as quickly as possible. 

He belly-crawled a few yards, careful not to be seen, but Noville was still two miles away and he was losing time fast, he couldn't crawl all the way there. He stood and broke into a jog. 

*******

“Sir! Captain Winters, sir, wake up!”

Dick frowned, listening to the flustered soldier. He was in his foxhole, wide awake, eyes staring out into the night as they’d been since Nix’s departure. “Calm down, private.”

The young replacement shoved his head underneath the blanket serving as a partial tarp and blinked at him. “Sir, Captain Nixon returned, he’s at CP and he requested you.”

As soon as Nix’s name left the boy’s lips, Dick was up, rifle in hand, and in another second he was out of the foxhole, crossing the terrain to CP. “Get Strayer,” he ordered over his shoulder. 

Nix was unhurt. That was the first thing of which Dick took note. The tightness across his shoulders eased and he set his helmet and gun aside to start some coffee. His friend looked frozen through, lips nearly blue on his pale face. 

“I told you you wouldn’t have time to miss me,” Nix greeted cheekily through chattering teeth. “Were you worried?”

“Not a bit.” He tossed his own blanket over Nix’s shoulders and grabbed two canteens. “Strayer should be here soon. What did you find?”

Nix sighed as he tried warming his hands on the tiny flame Dick coaxed to life. “They have a Sherman and two Stuart lights posted at the entrance of the town,” he revealed, tone even as though that weren’t a heck of an oversight on the part of the higher-ups in command. 

Dick crossed his arms, thinking. “If we hit that road in broad daylight …”

Nix nodded grimly. “They’ll mow us down the second they catch sight of us.”

The news did not exactly come as a surprise, but it was a grisly confirmation nonetheless. Still, forewarned meant, if not forearmed, at least foreplanned. “Infantry?” he asked.

“Sure as hell.” Nix poured the hot water into the canteens and spooned in the instant coffee. His hair fell into his eyes as he did so — it was getting too long — and Dick forced himself to keep still and not reach forward to brush it back. “They have a company, maybe more and they’re mobilizing, getting ready to push us back.” He ran a hand over his drawn face, clearly exhausted. “Dick, they’re gonna beat us to the punch if we wait too long. We’re gonna take a hell of a licking if we don’t move now.” He pulled out the initial map he’d borrowed from his friend and two additional ones with German writing. 

Dick didn’t get a chance to ask more. Strayer arrived with a replacement, looking cold, exhausted and still half-asleep. “Nixon? Winters? What’s going on?”

Dick gave him a short and brief account, Strayer’s face becoming more and more grim the more Dick divulged, before turning to the recruit and ordering him to fetch Webster posthaste. “And bring Doc Roe with you, too, will you?” He glanced at Nix and frowned at the man, silently indicating the blood that had begun seeping into the cloth of his uniform shirt at the forearm. 

Nixon gave him a sheepish grin in return. “Just a scratch,” he assured.

“You’re still getting it patched up.” 

Strayer looked between them, frowning, clearly unhappy with what he’d heard and their actions, but he demonstrated the level-headedness that had earned him his post and stayed silent, considering everything that had been said. “All right, what else?” he asked, taking a seat. 

Webster and Roe arrived trailed by Shifty halfway through another round of explanations and all three listened intently. Dick waved Webster forward and showed him the maps, giving him a moment to read as he pulled Roe to Nixon and motioned to his friend’s arm. “Get him fixed up, Gene.”

Roe nodded and set about bandaging what looked like a two-inch gash that had a poor field-dressing schlepped on. Dick gave Nixon another narrow-eyed look but Nix only winked back, unrepentant. 

He turned to the third man. “Shifty,” Dick acknowledged, eyeing the bandage still wrapped around the man’s head. “Why are you here? You were ordered to clear out with the wounded.”

Shifty glanced down, avoiding his gaze and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Broke out of the aid station, sir,” he admitted quietly, confirming what Dick already knew. No one wanted to stay in medical long, not when it meant they might get reassigned to a different unit. Dick didn’t blame the men for going AWOL. “Looks like I got back just in time for some action, huh?” he asked, resigned. 

“Sorry to say,” Dick conceded. 

“Sir.” Dick and Strayer turned to Webster as the kid spread the maps out on the ground for them all to see. “These maps list outposts, position of sentries, tanks and stocks of ammunition as well as barricaded areas for ambushes.” He glanced up, eyes wide. “It’s the blueprints for their entire Noville operation.”

They all absorbed that silently. Dick hadn’t quite expected so much from a reconnaissance run and, judging from his shocked expression, nor had Lewis. He stood and approached Webster. “You sure, Web?”

David nodded. He indicated various positions on the maps and translated everything that was written. 

Strayer glanced at Nix. “Captain Nixon, does that correspond with what you saw?”

“It does, sir.”

Strayer nodded absently, thoughtful, before turning to Dick. “Gather your men, Captain.”

“Yes, sir.” Dick met Lew’s gaze and he gave a small nod in acknowledgment of the relief and satisfaction reflected in Nix’s eyes. “You did great, Nix, now get some rest while you can, you’re asleep on your feet.” He shook his head when Nixon opened his mouth to object. “You’ve done more than your fair share already.”

Strayer looked ready to object as well, but he didn’t stop Lewis from leaving as the man rose tiredly and passed Dick his canteen. “I wouldn’t say no to closing my eyes for an hour,” he admitted. He squeezed Dick’s shoulder as he made his way out, sketching Strayer a quick salute.

******

They attacked Noville as morning was only beginning to crest far in the horizon. They moved in fast and furious under the leadership of Captain Foley. It would have been another case of textbook maneuvering against an enemy in a fixed position, and it was — except there was one thing those maps had left out.

*****

“Sir, they’re executing a pincer movement, they’re gonna cut us off!”

Grant yelled for the men to take cover and dove behind a low wall as the ground to the rear was pelted with bullets. “Can you see Command back there?” he yelled at Malarkey over the sound of mortar rounds going off. 

“That’s a negative!”

“Goddamn it,” Foley cursed quietly, thinking quickly, evaluating. Up ahead there was cover and high ground which would win them the upper hand if they secured it — it was their mission to secure it, but if Command got pinched …. 

Hell, there was no if about it, the Germans had effectively cut them off from Command. They weren’t executing a pincer movement, they’d already pulled it off. 

“Sir?” Ramirez prompted.

He glanced back to the smoke he could see in the distance. “We keep moving. We take Noville.” He ignored the grim looks the men shared, understanding their helpless rage. There were at least ten men hanging back as part of Command including Strayer, Winters and Nixon. Roe, Shifty and Webster had been with them as well. They could be in serious trouble. They could also already be dead. He wouldn’t endanger their objective when it was so close at hand for what could be a fruitless endeavor. Winters wouldn’t want that, nor would Nixon, not after all they’d done to get them here.

The men around him nodded, somber. None of them liked it, but they understood. Liebgott’s gaze darkened, a new savagery entering his eyes. “Permission to go back once we clear Noville, sir?”

Jack blinked in consternation. “You want to go back?” Of all the people he would have expected to kick at the order, it hadn’t been Liebgott. 

“I’m going back, sir,” Lieb clarified, deadly serious, uncompromising. “I’d rather it be with your authorization so I don’t get tagged as AWOL and get court-martialed for it, but I’m going back either way.”

“Lieb, don’t be stupid—” Guarnere began, but Toye cut him off. “Give it up, Bill. You know you’d do the same if it was me or Luz or Babe—”

“‘Eyy, ‘ey, we don’t talk about that shit, okay?” Bill grumbled, flushing darkly. 

Jack motioned for Boyle. “Keep trying Command on that radio,” he ordered before turning back to Joe. “All right, Liebgott. We take Noville and then you can go back but, Joe, understand you’re going alone. Losing Winters, if we lost Winters,” he added seeing the heartache and misery in the expressions all around him, “and the others is already too much of a loss. I can’t spare more men.”

Liebgott didn’t blink, didn’t so much as look concerned. “That’s fine, sir,” he replied, easy, uncaring. Jack nearly changed his mind and ordered the technician to stay but it wouldn’t do any good. Liebgott was going no matter what orders anyone gave, that was evident in his unflinching stare. Jack turned away, motioning for the men to follow and thought, _Liebgott must have a hell of a buddy among the men at the command post_. 

*****

“We move fast, quietly and lightly. Bring all the weapons and ammo you can carry,” Dick instructed, voice low so it reached only their ears. A platoon had cut them off from their men, leaving CP exposed and vulnerable. Further intelligence alerted them via radio to the possibility of a second group of unknown strength moving up from the east. Soon after that they’d been engaged in a fast and furious exchange of fire that had killed their radio operator and left the radio in pieces. They were well and truly cut off, no way to meet up with their men, no way to request support and the area was crawling with Germans. Dick didn’t have the manpower, ammunition or position to launch an effective counteroffensive. The only choice was to try and slip away then double back to reconnect with their main force.

“They’ll come back for us, right?” Strayer asked. “Once they see what’s happening?” Dick shared a look with Nixon.

“No, sir,” he informed him, giving it to him straight. This was not the time to present reality through rose-tinted eyeglasses, better Strayer understood exactly what they were up against. “We’re paratroopers. The men will carry out the mission as ordered and expect us to get our own behinds out of the fire, which we will do,” he assured the Lieutenant Colonel, watching as the man paled, but nodded. Strayer was great with administrative duties, that was where he excelled but direct combat was not his forte; Dick would need to rely — as always — on Nixon and on his soldiers. It was a good thing that among those stranded with him were a few Toccoa men. “Webster,” he called, proud when the young man leaped-to with gratifying readiness, “you’ll be lead scout. We’re going to move past the Germans using the ditch as cover.” He could see in their eyes that they wanted to believe they’d be able to slip past the enemy undiscovered. Dick wanted to believe it too, but he wasn’t counting on it. 

He rifled through his pack quickly, the others following suit and emptied it of everything but a blanket, socks and ammo. The ammo was laughably insufficient. He raised his head and saw Lewis staring grimly down at a meager four clips before stuffing them in his bag. The others’ supplies didn’t look to be in much better shape. No help for it now. 

Nix shoved to his feet just as Dick called out, “Let’s move.” He turned, leading the way as he always did, cool and collected as their small squad fell behind. There were ten of them including Strayer, Roe and Webster, nowhere near enough to take a platoon head-on. Nix moved quicker until he was shoulder to shoulder with Dick, keeping a careful eye out, watching for anything that could be an enemy or a way past the enemy. The sun’s rays were now grasping at the day from the horizon, every minute brightening the sky, narrowing their timeframe for finding cover before they were spotted. 

Finally they arrived at the same culvert that Nix had used just a few hours before to move undetected. It provided a lot less camouflage in the daylight, but they were lucky it butted up against the side of a small hill. They traveled for another twenty minutes along that dike, moving in utter silence before they heard movement up ahead. Dick motioned sharply for them to halt and they dove low as the redhead gave them the signal to hold their position. 

He jogged forward several feet, past a bend in the narrow canal and out of sight. Nix was sure that in the ten minutes or so that Dick was gone, his anxiety hacked away several years off his lifespan. He glanced back, meeting the gazes of the men and giving them a reassuring half-grin. Strayer was his biggest worry. The man had no first-hand combat experience and it was evident now: his rifle was on the ground with his fingers only loosely clasped on the barrel. No way would be he able to react in time to a sudden attack. 

As the thought formed, Dick reappeared. He shook his head at Nix’s questioning look. They wouldn’t be able to continue along the dike then. Dick opened up the map again and frowned thoughtfully, motioning their sharpshooter forward. “Shifty, you mentioned seeing a barn when you scouted the area a few days ago, right?” he asked absently, finger tracing a path on the map. 

Shifty nodded and pointed. “Right in this stretch, sir.” 

Dick marked it and passed the map to every man to memorize the location. “Let’s go.” The barn lay only a few miles away, it shouldn’t have taken them long, but it was slow going getting there. They were forced to stop several times and reroute several more in order to avoid German patrols before they located the place. It was a good space to hole up and wait for nightfall, though if not for Shifty’s eyes, Dick wasn’t sure they’d have found it, concealed by a copse of trees as it was. The building looked to be abandoned, ramshackle and decrepit with several stacks of hay left behind.

“Interesting place for a barn,” Shifty commented as he took a quick glance around. “Doesn’t make no sense to have it sitting out in the middle of nowhere like this.” 

Nix shrugged. “We’ll be sure to point that out when we fill out the customer satisfaction survey,” he quipped, tossing his pack on the leaf-strewn floor. Luckily for them, the door had been shut, keeping the snow out. Too bad it did nothing about the freezing temperature. 

Dick glanced outside through the solitary, high, narrow window. “Looks to be about noon. We can risk a small fire for food.” He looked at every man present — nine now in total, assessing. “Webster, Shifty, you’re on sentry duty.” Shifty was still recovering, but Dick knew he could trust him and Web not to panic easily and start shooting at anything that moved. That would only serve to immediately give away their location. The two men nodded and went to take up their posts and Dick assigned the replacements to build a fire and cook the limited ration of beans they’d managed to scrounge up. Meantime, he took Nixon and together they scouted the surrounding forest. “Got any anti-personnel mines on you?”

“Two,” Nixon confirmed. He didn’t sound terribly happy about it and Dick understood why. Two mines for a layout of several square miles wasn’t going to be of much help. Did they place them strategically now, or wait to make use of them at what could be a more critical junction? He glanced around again before meeting Nixon’s gaze. He saw there the same grave realization. “It has to be here. We’ll need to make a stand.”

Dick nodded pensively. “It’s our best bet,” he agreed. 

*****

It was a waiting game for night to fall. 

As the hours ticked by, Dick honestly began to believe they’d make it. They nearly did. 

But at 4:15 they heard it, the low bird-like whistle from Shifty indicating enemy sighting. Dick’s heart jerked in his chest and his hand tightened on the rifle as he signaled to the men. They dispersed — all of them spreading out and taking their positions behind various outcroppings of rocks and trees. Their best chance lay in separating themselves to keep from being wiped out instantly. The barn offered only false security — a few potato mashers, a mortar shell or even a machine gun could tear right through the aged wood, but it did serve the purpose of providing a focal point for their enemy’s attack and that gave them their best hope — the element of surprise. 

At 4:21 the first mine detonated. He waited, holding his breath, and then he heard it — groans and screams from those who’d been hit. The Germans had arrived. The thought had only formed when the next second the forest lit up with muzzle flashes as what looked like an entire platoon opened up. 

“Hold your fire!” Dick yelled at his men over the cacophony of shots. They couldn’t afford to shoot blindly, they didn’t have the ammo to spare. “Hold your fire! Watch for the enemy! Don’t let them draw you out!”

Bullets slammed into the tree where he was taking cover, right at head-height. He caught the glint of the barrel of a machine gun in the setting sun and hit the ground, chips of wood flying as the tree was battered relentlessly. 

“Dick!” Nix’s desperate cry sounded to his left. 

“I’m fine!” he yelled back, practically eating dirt as more bullets ripped into the trunk. Silence fell once again as the Germans listened for them. They must have not known their numbers, must not have been sure if they were facing off against a larger force. If they’d suspected their opponents were a group of nine men, they would have mowed them down, overwhelming them with sheer firepower. Dick held his rifle steady, waiting, waiting. To his right, Shifty fired. The single shot rang out followed by the howl of a German before he fell silent. His fellow soldiers yelled curses and opened up again in retaliation and potato mashers began to fly. Dick scampered and rolled to another tree as one landed two feet away from him, the machine gun nearly ripping him to shreds as he dove behind the next trunk. Silence again. He kept the seconds by the hammering of his pulse as he took a deep breath, hands steady, watching for an opening. He could hear shuffling behind him and to his left, then the crack of Nix’s M1. The machine-gunner opened fire again, this time blasting away in Nixon’s direction and Dick placed him in his sights and squeezed the trigger. The bullet blasted the man’s skull and Dick shot off the next round into his assistant gunner, hitting him twice in the chest. He heard more shots let off from Webster’s location, then Strayer’s and several others’ followed by more hollers from the German offensive. One hundred yards from the barn, another sudden blast rocked them all. The second mine had been set off and more screams of pain followed. Dick brought up his rifle and fired again and again and again as shouts continued to sound, panic setting in among the Germans.

“Sir!” Webster called out, “they’re giving the order to retreat!”

A cheer went up among the replacements even as Strayer barked at them to stay focused. Dick squeezed off two more shots along with Shifty, fairly certain they both hit their marks and that’s when it happened. 

A shocked yell and a loud pop then several more shots followed by one of the sounds he’d most come to dread — “Medic!” 

He could hear pained moaning and cursing coming from Strayer, then the crunch of light, quick feet on fresh snow as Roe responded, rushing head-first. Dick spotted the barrel of the rifle too late. He raised his own gun, feeling like the world had slowed to a sudden crawl and let off a shot. The bullet hit the man high in the shoulder — his center mass and head protected by the tree trunk — and he jerked lightly but his gun never wavered. “Roe, get down!” he yelled, finger already squeezing the trigger again, knowing as he did so that it would be useless. The bullet embedded in the tree harmlessly. He was too late. He turned and from the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of two uniforms colliding as someone shoved Roe aside just as three quick-fire shots rang and reverberated. 

“Son of a bitch!” David roared. Dick heard more shots, heard returned fire, but his focus was on those two bodies on the ground. He ran forward as bullets kicked up the ground behind him and whizzed by his head.

Roe shoved onto his knees, pushing the other man off him and whipped around, yanking bandages out of his bag. “Hang in there, sir. Please hold on, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Roe began working furiously, wrapping bandages faster than he ever had before, hands quickly becoming bathed in red. “Press down on that wound!” he bit out to the scared replacement who had dropped to his knees beside him. It wouldn’t do any good. There were three ugly holes in Nixon’s chest. One was directly over his heart. 

“Sir, that’s all of them!” a replacement called somewhere behind them. Dick felt David approach, heard his soft, _Oh God_ as he saw Nixon. 

“Don’t just stand there!” Roe barked at them, hands slipping on the blood that was already beginning to slow because Nixon’s heart no longer beat. “Give him morphine, he’s in pain!”

“Gene,” Webster called softly, voice breaking.

Roe finished tying off another bandage and moved on to the next one, growling at the replacement — Adams? — to press harder. “You’ll be all right, sir. You’ll be okay,” he said to Nix soothingly.

“Gene!” Webster cried. He fell to his knees behind Roe and squeezed his arms tightly around him, forcing his hands still. “He’s dead.”

******

“Medic!”

Dick didn’t know how long he’d been standing there watching his world crumble and his men break before that distressed call pierced his awareness. 

“Medic!”

He stepped forward and pried Webster away from their medic, brushing him aside impatiently, ignoring the boy’s tears. He grabbed Roe’s arm and lifted him onto unsteady feet. The doc’s face was ashen, eyes dull and unseeing. He was in shock. It was strange that after everything the boy had seen, this was what he was letting crush him. “Gene,” he murmured, tapping the boy’s cheek, “Gene, they still need you. You can’t break now.”

“I— Sir, I—” He looked lost, shattered, but his eyes were dry, like whatever he was feeling was too much for tears. Dick could empathize. He pulled Gene close and the boy collapsed into his arms, clutching at him, burying his face against Dick’s chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sir.”

Dick held him tightly for a moment, baby-fine hair brushing his jaw. He gave the boy a moment to compose himself before pushing him away. “Enough, Gene, they need you and Nixon needs me. Go. Adams, go with him.” 

******

“Strayer was hit with a potato masher, sir,” Shifty reported as Dick kneeled over Nix, brushing the silky hair back from his face like he’d wanted to do only that morning. That morning? Had such little time passed? 

“You need a haircut, Nix,” he murmured, frowning when he saw that he’d left a streak of blood on Nix’s forehead. It was all right, he’d clean him up. “Web, Shifty, help me get him inside.”

The two men shared a look over his head, holding a silent argument until Web slung his rifle over his shoulder and stepped forward. “Yes, sir.”

The two men helped spread out the straw in the barn to make a bed for Nix and helped lay him there, arms at his sides while Dick spread his blanket over him so that it almost looked like he'd laid down for a rest, but his eyes, unblinking and sightless, gave him away.

“Sir?” Dick raised his gaze at the hesitation in Webster’s voice. “It’s time. Strayer needs to get to an aid station or he’ll die, sir. It’s dark now, we can take the dike and meet up with our platoons.” 

Dick nodded. “Yes,” he agreed, ignoring their relieved looks. “It’s time to go. Get the men.”

They built a makeshift stretcher on which to carry Strayer and got him loaded. The man was quiet and glassy-eyed from the morphine. That was a small blessing. It looked like the potato masher had shattered his legs. “You’ll need to set out quickly. Take the road here north and double back to the dike, you’ll be able to use that to hook up with Easy in Noville. Get Strayer to an aid station. Got it?”

It wasn’t what they were expecting to hear. Dick watched as the men grew progressively more alarmed. “No—”

“This is not up for debate!” he barked as they all began to protest. “You have your orders. Get.” The replacements appeared shaken, shocked, but they gathered their gear obediently. Roe didn't move. “Gene,” he murmured, “Strayer will need you.” It was the truth, but Dick wanted him gone mostly because the boy couldn’t stop looking at Nix with that devastated, guilty expression. There was no need to feel guilty. Nix had saved him because he cared for the boy, he wouldn’t want him hurting. So Dick gave the order and Roe nodded dully. 

He kneeled and said a prayer over Nixon before whispering, “thank you for saving my life, sir”. He leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to Lewis’s cheek, brushing his fingers over his eyelids, closing those beautiful cherry-black eyes as the replacements bowed their heads, weeping. Dick’s heart clenched, wishing Lewis could see just how much he was loved. The boys left, but Shifty and Web stubbornly remained.

Dick took out his canteen, wetting a bit of his shirt and wiped the blood off of Nix’s face. “There,” he told him softly, “you don’t get to complain about not looking your best.”

“Sir?” Dick glanced up at Webster’s scared tone. “Sir, we need to go.” 

Go. Right. Because he still had men who needed him, who relied on him and he was endangering them needlessly every second they stayed. That’s what Nix would tell him. But Nix was gone. He’d been gone instantly and even knowing that Dick had still dug his fingers into Lewis’s neck, desperate to feel even the faintest flutter. 

Of course there was nothing. 

Nix was dead. But Dick couldn’t leave him behind.

_If I buy it, it better be in some heroic, glorious fashion,” Nix slurred. “Not that I believe in all that bull the military feeds stupid, reckless kids, but … it’d be nice … to at least die knowing I did one good thing.”_

_Dick shook his head. “You’re already a hero, Nix.”_

_His friend flushed and smiled, eyes glittering in the soft lamplight. “I know you’ll miss me at least. You’ll miss me, right? Tell me you’ll get roaring drunk at my funeral. God, that would be something to see,” he laughed._

_"This is a morbid conversation,” Dick protested, shaking his head. “I don’t like it.”_

_“Yeah,” Nix agreed, “but promise me anyway. You’ll get drunk at my funeral.”_

_“I promise.”_

His eyes burned and he took Nix’s hand, linking their fingers. Nix was still warm. It was so hard to believe that all that life, that vigor, could be extinguished like it had never existed at all. He squeezed tighter, willing Nix to respond to his touch, _willing_ life back into him — his own life if necessary. It didn’t matter, he could give his life, he only wanted Nix to live, wanted to look into his eyes one more time, to hear his voice. How could Lewis’s voice be lost forever? The idea was intolerable. But, try as he might, Nix’s fingers remained lax in his and the black mass of loss, grief and rage that sat in his chest, too much for an insignificant human to handle, expanded. 

__“I’m sorry, Nix,” he whispered, “I won’t be able to keep our promise.” He wouldn’t be making it back for Nix’s funeral, but he wondered if maybe they could be buried together. Maybe that could be enough. Surely his friend wouldn't mind? Nix had never liked being alone, after all._ _

__“Captain Winters.” The grief-stricken tone broke into his reverie, sounding lost, but Dick found himself unable to care. “Sir, please,” Webster begged, refusing to give up._ _

__Dick shook his head and leaned down, pressing his forehead to Nix’s, their lips so close. How often had Dick craved, how often had he wished and imagined only to pull back in fear? Now that fear seemed laughable. “You two need to go.”_ _

__Webster wasn’t moving, nor was Shifty. He saw them exchange looks, still making no move to get going. “That wasn't a suggestion, privates, that was an order.”_ _

__Shifty looked at the ground, unwilling to meet his eyes, looking forlorn, but Webster stepped forward and shook his head stubbornly. “We can’t leave you, sir. You have to come with us, h-h-he’s,” David stuttered to a stop, unable to say it again. “Sir, you can’t help him,” he finished helplessly._ _

__“It’s you I can’t help,” Dick corrected gently. “You’ll die if you stay; don’t make that my responsibility. I’ve lost enough today.”_ _

__Shifty lifted his head, gaze filled with sorrow. He opened his mouth, then … stopped. Dick frowned as one second, then another, then another slipped past and Shifty continued to stand frozen, not a single thing about him moving. It was unnatural. He turned to Web, but he was utterly still as well. Utterly. There was no sound, nothing in the barn, nothing from outside. It was a silence so profound that Dick’s hair stood on end, realizing the only thing he could hear was his own breathing. He swallowed hard, and stood, rifle at the ready. “Shifty? Web?” he called softly, edging closer. There was no response, but then he hadn’t truly expected one. Sweat dotted his forehead and his heart began to beat erratically in his breast, animal instincts telling him there was something very wrong. He held still, waiting._ _

__“Richard Davis Winters.”_ _

__Dick whirled to face the rear of the barn. The space that had been entirely empty of anyone just a few seconds ago. There was a man there dressed in an enemy soldier’s uniform and Dick’s hands reacted before his brain. He squeezed the trigger and hit the soldier center-mass. There was nothing from the man, not a twitch, not a grimace._ _

__“Richard Davis Winters.”_ _

__A dud? Dick fired again and again and again. Nothing. Good God. He had to be dreaming. He had to, there was no other explanation and it spoke to the depth of his grief that in the midst of that horror, a sigh of relief passed his lips at the thought that Nix must be alive, even as his body shrank away from whatever … thing stood before him now. It was evident that whatever it was, it was not a man, not anything living._ _

__The thing grinned and its amusement was starkly cruel. “No, you are not dreaming, Richard.”_ _

__Dick’s knees gave out, the rifle clattering to the ground._ _

__“You called me here, so here I am. Ready to make that deal.”_ _

__It looked at him, expectant, and Dick swallowed past his fear, pushed it away just as he did in battle. “Deal?” he asked hoarsely. There was a sound at the edge of his consciousness, something like a frantic voice calling to him, frightened, but no matter how much he strained to hear it, he could not make out what it said._ _

__“Yes, after all, you want to save his life,” the man said, approaching Nix’s body, and, monster or not, Dick would not allow him near Nix._ _

__He threw himself over Lewis and snarled at the man, grabbing for the knife strapped to his leg. “Don’t touch him!”_ _

__The thing stopped, entertained at the display but raised its hands in mocking surrender. “Sure, sure, no need to fret, but I can’t bring him back without touching him.”_ _

__Dick’s hand tightened on the handle of the knife. “Bring him back?” God, it definitely had to be a dream. A nightmare. The worst one of all. “Are you an angel?” He knew it wasn’t true even before the words left his mouth. Though the person — thing — in front of him had the visage of a young, handsome man with a halo of platinum blond hair on his head, there was something … sinister about him. An aura that made Dick’s heart pound in his chest and left his mouth dry._ _

__The man smiled and, though it was lovely, the hair stood on end on Dick’s arms. “Of a kind,” he said slowly. “But don’t worry about me, I’m here about your friend. You said you would give your soul for his life. I accept your offer.”_ _

__Dick dropped the knife, fingers gone nerveless, unable to stop it as the thing knelt on the other side of Nix’s body and pressed a hand to his chest. “I didn’t say I would sell my soul,” he whispered, the words forced from his parched throat._ _

__“Semantics,” the thing dismissed, blue eyes much too bright, unnaturally bright, in the darkness, “I can hear your innermost desire and you want this man to live no matter the price, isn’t that right?”_ _

__“ _Dick!_ ” The voice rang out and Dick’s head jerked up, glancing around, expecting to see one of his men. That voice had almost sounded familiar. But no one was there — no one and nothing. The creature in front of him frowned, glancing around warily for a moment, then his hand glowed red against Nixon’s chest and slowly the blood began to disappear from Nix’s clothing and bandages. _ _

__Dick’s heart stopped at the tiny gasp._ _

**Author's Note:**

> And that is chapter one ... I'm really excited for this one but it's gonna be absolute hell to write, I can already see that. Thoughts? Predictions? I love predictions!
> 
> Title is from Shakespeare's 'Measure for Measure' act 2, sc. 2, l. 117  
>  _Man, proud man, drest in a little brief authority, most ignorant of what he's most assurd, glassy essence, like an angry ape, plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, as make the angels weep._


End file.
